


your social anxiety shouldn't be worse then an actual physical stab wound

by Michaelangelo



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Blood, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective Victor Zsasz, Stab Wound, also i completely abandoned the canon because i am the lord of this land and shall do what i want, caregiver! zsasz, i was doing this as a little half hour writing prompt so please forgive me for how short it is, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 12:15:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20546009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michaelangelo/pseuds/Michaelangelo
Summary: self indulgent fic about zsasz being very protective over jonathan and having to pull a knife out of his hand





	your social anxiety shouldn't be worse then an actual physical stab wound

**Author's Note:**

> \- jonathans 17 in this  
\- zsasz and jonathan have a caregiver/whump dynamic but nothing beyond that

It was only a matter of time Jonathan thought to himself as he nodded softly. Everyone hurt him eventually so why should Zsasz be any different? He was an assassin after all, he should be surprised this didn't come sooner. He held out his hand, letting the older man take it in his own, the tenderness almost repulsive now that he knew what was about to happen.  
He could never know how much this was crushing the assassin inside though. Zsasz wanted nothing less than to harm this child, even if it was for his own good. This young man had been through far too much already, his abuse legendary even in gotham (the city of murdered parents and homeless kids) and here Zsasz was, subjecting him to even more suffering.  
It gave him one of the few feelings of guilt he had ever experienced and he almost choked on it. But what was he supposed to do? The boy had stumbled through his door with a knife all the way through his hand, and after his time in arkham and the current warrant for his arrest, there were more than a few reasons why he couldn't be taken to a hospital. Zsasz considered taking him to Lee, even offered it but the boy refused. His anxiety was so high he would rather keep the knife in his hand then talk to a stranger. Everything about this child broke the older man's heart.  
So it was with great sadness that he wrapped his hand around the others, holding it for a second and looking into the boys eyes for any sign that he didn’t want this. There was a million, and at the same time, there was none. So with one clean movement he took his other hand, and ripped the knife from the boy, not allowing the child enough time to flinch away. Blood flicked across his face and he immediately clamped his hands tight around the others to stem the bleeding.  
But he wasn’t ready for what came next. He had expected the boy to scream, but the silent tears that flooded down the boys face were far worse. He’d tortured enough people in his time to know what that meant. This child, who by all rights should still be in school, had suffered more by his father's hands than most would in a lifetime. This act of submission was a testament to his fear, and his strength. But it was a strength he should have, a submission he shouldn't know how to offer. Crying like that was something reserved for people who had been taught that even being in pain was a crime worth being punished for.  
As he held the boys bleeding hand in his own, he hoped the child could feel how sorry he was for everything. How sorry he was that he couldn’t protect him, and how sorry he was for having to hurt him. Everyone he’d ever known had hurt him, and Zsasz had hoped he wouldn't have to as well. But this seemed to be this boys fate. A life of suffering, and all the assassin could do was help him get through the other end. He couldn’t protect him, no matter how hard he tried, but he would always be there for him, to help him however he could. He hoped Jonathan could feel this, and in the way the younger man looked up at him, a weak shine behind his eyes, he knew he did.


End file.
